


Wanna Take You Home

by razthelin (zarinthel)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24874207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarinthel/pseuds/razthelin
Summary: Beware elezen bearing gifts.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Wanna Take You Home

Estinien leans against one of the endless, crumbling buildings that made the Churning Mist always feel so empty. He understands why Hraesvalgr asked this of the moogles, now. Sometimes, when all of time feels raw, even the damaged ruins of your past can feel like home. 

But something felt off today. The winds were too quiet, the dragons too loud. It hadn’t felt like this since--

“Estinien!” 

His head snaps around to stare at Valerian, who’s waving at him. 

The savior of Ishgard has his staff casually slung across his back, meaning he probably was here on actual business and didn’t come all the way up here just to talk to Estinien. 

That’s not better, somehow. 

“What do you want,” Estinien growls. 

“Well, you remember how we cleared out Sohm Al on our way up to the Summit,” 

He does. Vividly. 

“Well, Vidofnir called me up and was all “There’s some new problems, can you go through and clean it out again, which I did, but then she was all oh... I can sense Nidhogg’s shade, isn’t that your pretty friend?” 

“She did _not_ say that.” 

Estinien misses wearing his helmet. It used to be much easier to pretend Valerian didn’t get to him. 

“No, I said that part,” Valerian agrees, walking up to him. Bastard. “Isn’t it cold out here, Estinien? You look like you’ve got windburn.” 

“You--” 

Valerian uses his obnoxiously good reflexes for evil, and slips a scarf around Estinien’s neck. 

“There,” he says, nodding to himself.

What _‘there’_ Estinien is going to burn this scarf to show him what he thinks of--

“Aymeric gave it to me. He was worried you’d be cold.” 

Estinien’s hands, already wrapped around the scarf, drop back to his side. Maybe he won’t burn it. 

“In fact,” Valerian is watching him with lidded eyes. Oh, no. “Aymeric is actually in Anyx Trine for another formal peace summit.” 

That’s so close. 

Valerian is still holding onto the edges of the scarf. He smiles at Estinien, sweet and blank, and then leans in to whisper in his ear. 

“I was thinking that I should bring a present back to Aymeric. To thank him for all his hard work.” Valerian is shorter than Estinien, and tugs on the scarf to make Estinien bend towards him. 

Estinien can break through cermet steel, he can certainly rip a scarf. 

He leans with the soft pull. 

“I thought about it,” Valerian says, and it’s always, always his sincerity that drives Estinien crazy. “But the only present I could think of was you.” 

Estinien feels his muscles lock up. 

Valerian smiles up at him, as patient now as he was when Estinien had first seen him. Estinien now knows that tragedy dogs Valerian’s steps like a faithful hound, playfully nipping at his heels whenever he slows down. But he slows down anyway, and talks to children while his feet bleed. 

Estinien could never do that. Dragoons aren’t meant to stay in one place. 

He opens his mouth to refuse. No matter what Valerian thinks, Aymeric will be happy enough to see him alone. 

“Please, Estinien?” 

Guilt stirs in his chest, alongside something else. 

“I...” There’s a lot of good reasons why he shouldn’t do this. 

“Don’t worry!” Valerian says, giving him the same simple hand in fist that he’d done before going to face kings and gods. “Even if you can’t hold anything back, you can entrust all of that to me.” 

Valerian wore that same staff on the Steps of Faith. 

“I’ll prove it to you,” Valerian says. “Or rather, you’ll prove it. Aymeric will be there all week, we can take an extra day. It’s okay, I promised him I’d take care of you.” 

The words ring in his head like the bell that used to toll a dragon attack, each one punching right through his armour. 

He’s always known that the warrior of light is a bastard with no morals and a stubborn willingness to go to the ends of the earth for a pointless task. Didn’t he accompany them all the way to Zenith? If he’s-- if he’s decided, then.. 

Estinien carefully raises his hand to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen in Valerian’s face out of his eyes, his gaze falling to the Fortemps earrings that Valerian wears. That’s...new. 

“Nice earrings.” 

“Thanks.” Valerian leans his head against Estinien’s hand. “I’d always meant to ask him out for drinks, but there never seemed to be enough time.” 

For Nidhogg, all agony was as fresh as the moment he received it. Estinien often finds himself lost in tragedies he’d long thought himself inured to. If he’d only been faster-- it could have been him that took the blow, and not the knight. 

That would have prevented a lot of trouble. 

But Valerian’s mind seems to have gone in a different direction. 

“I swore I’d never miss a chance like that again,” he says, voice laden with buried grief. 

Oh. 

“We can try,” Estinien says. “Just this once,” he adds quickly. He doesn’t want Valerian to be getting ideas. 

Valerian’s smile makes Estinien feel like there’s light inside his veins. 

“You’ve got a camp around here, right?” 

He could still just leave. 

“It’s this way.” 

As Valerian walks back with him, Estinien’s neck prickles from Valerian’s constant, contemplative stare. Back when they’d been up here with the others, Valerian’s own partner had been lost to him, stuck in a strange limbo between life and death. Estinien knows that despite how Valerian looked at him after Ravana, he’d made no moves on a single man before he found Thancred once more. 

Valerian had once said this to a flustered Alphinaud-- Life hits hard, but I hit harder. 

Estinien felt that in his bones. 

“Nice place,” Valerian says, surveying the rudimentary set up of a cot in a tucked away cave. 

It sounds genuine, which is why he hates Valerian. He also hates him for the way he just strolls over to Estinien’s bed, and sits down on it. He pats the spot next to it as a sign for Estinien to come over, like it’s _his_ bed. 

He gives Valerian another glare to show who’s choice this is, then goes and sits next to him. 

Valerian smiles at him. 

Awful. 

“Estinien,” Valerian says. “Ever heard of a ‘safeword’?” 

He isn’t going to blush. 

“I don’t need one,” he says instead. Whatever Valerian does to him, he can take. 

“But _I_ do,” says Valerian, hands playing with the bit of the scarf that dangles within reach. “What if I want to stop, Estinien? You’d need to know it’s not your fault.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Estinien says, mouth on autopilot. 

“Exactly. So, mine’s Thornmarch. I say that, everything stops.” Valerian is still tugging at the scarf. “Think about this. You’ve told me you like bruising, so I make sure that most of my caresses are heavy enough to leave marks. I bite hard enough that you can feel my teeth.” 

Estinien’s mind follows Valerian’s voice down well worn tracks. 

“But one time, I bite too hard, the point where I can taste blood in my mouth. To you, this might be nothing. But to me, having blood in my mouth is awful, reminds me of bad things, and I hate it. So I say Thornmarch. What do you do, Estinien?” 

Valerian’s tone drags him from the fantasy as fast as he’d pulled him in. 

Estinien’s mind goes blank. 

“I’d...” He would _not_ freak out. “Go and get you some water?” 

Valerian laughs, the affection thick and warm in his voice. It wraps around Estinien like the scarf, pressing against his skin. 

“You don’t know what’s made me say the word, Estinien. Just that suddenly, I want to stop.” 

“Then we stop,” Estinien says. Is it that simple? Valerian shouldn’t be made to do anything he doesn’t want to. 

“Are you sure?” Valerian leans his head against the wall behind him. “I don’t look that distressed. I’m still hard, probably. And I love watching you writhe, so I could probably push past it. With no lasting harm, even.” 

Something clenches inside Estinien’s chest. 

“You shouldn’t touch me if you don’t want to.” 

“Oh, I want to.” 

“But you said... Thornmarch.” Estinien tries out the word. “So that means, I stop. And..” 

“You could hug me,” says Valerian. “I like that.” 

Of course he does. 

Estinien crosses his arms. 

“I get it,” He mutters. 

“So,” Valerian says, voice still patient. “I also need you to have a safeword.” 

“I’ve never needed one before.” 

It’s a weak protest. He’s never done this with Valerian before, either. 

“If you don’t want to pick one, I can do that part,” Valerian offers. 

He almost doesn’t want to know. 

“... What.” 

Valerian hums, looking at him intently. A slight smile lights up his face, as if he’s staring into a sweet, idyllic memory. 

“How about Ravana?” 

The arrogance of someone who uses dead gods as a sign of trust. 

“Say it for me,” Valerian prompts him. 

Estinien swallows. 

“Ravana.” He says it quickly. The name has a strange weight to it on his tongue, like the clink of a shackle falling to the ground. He can say anything, except that. If he says that then-- 

Then Valerian will know what to do. 

He waits, then realizes Valerian has no plans to do anything. 

“I didn’t mean stop,” Estinien mutters. “That was...practice.” 

He feels Valerian’s hand tug on his scarf once again, and Valerian leans over to whisper in his ear. 

“Then take your armour off, Estinien. I want to be able to practice, too.” 

Valerian is going to finish the job he started on the Steps of Faith. He’s going to kill him. 

Estinien’s hand works on autopilot as he reaches for the scarf around his neck. 

“No,” Valerian says, voice warm. “You can keep that on. I don’t want you to be cold.” 

If he gets any hotter he’s going to cook inside of his armour. Estinien fumbles the catches that keep his pants and leg gear together, letting the mechanisms detach and fall to the floor. 

“Is that how you do it,” says Valerian. He’s watching... intently. Like he’s taking notes. 

“It’s just armour,” Estinien says. “It’s all the same.”

“Aymeric’s was completely different.” 

A vision of Aymeric slowly taking his armour of piece by piece slips through Estiniens head. Even kissing Aymeric while he was in uniform had always felt so dangerous, nowhere safe enough to protect the Lord Commander from ruining his own reputation. 

But Valerian’s reputation is good enough to be the shield the Archbishop had refused to be. 

“I’ll show you, when we go visit him,” Valerian says. “He had to explain to me how it all held together.” 

This _really_ isn’t helping.

Estinien gets his gauntlets off and gives a rough yank at the rest, as if that will help him get the chest piece off. Not wearing his armour makes him feel-- stripped open. Vulnerable to attack. 

“I’ll help,” says Valerian, standing up. 

“I can do it,” Estinien snaps, finally throwing the piece off. It clangs against the wall before hitting the floor. 

Valerian smiles at him, his eyes slowly working their way over Estinien’s body. 

“Can you come over here, then?” 

He sits back down on Estinien’s bed, and pats his lap the same way he’d patted the spot beside him. 

Something jumps in his chest, thrumming underneath his skin. He feels the poisonous creep of dragonsblood pound under his skin, and tries to brace against it. 

“Estinien?” 

Valerian’s waiting for him. 

Deciding to just figure it out as he goes along, Estinien picks the....least embarrassing option, slinging keeping his legs on the outside of Valerian’s as he settles, chest to chest but not quite face to face. His long hair falls in his eyes, and he   
shakes it away. 

Valerian’s hands settle on his waist, tracing the muscles in his back. 

“You’re so jumpy.” 

Dragoon joke. Hah. Very funny. 

“Shut up,” Estinien says, unwilling to just wrap his hands around Valerian’s shoulders. That’s...too much. 

“You can touch me, Estinien,” Valerian says, mild and sweet. His hands brush up and down Estinien’s sides, like you’d do to calm a horse. “I should have brought some rope,” he says, a hint of regret tinting his words. “I didn’t know you’d be up here.” 

Estinien’s mind betrays him, conjuring the phantom scrape of hemp against his wrists. 

“It’s okay,” Valerian says. “We’ll think of something.” 

Estinien is having trouble thinking about anything above his dick right now. He shifts a little, trying to find a better position. The sensation of feeling cotton rub against his thighs is.. Disconcerting. 

“Help me out,” Valerian says. He still isn’t _doing anything_ , just...talking. While Estinien sits on his lap. “You’re good at being in the wild. Maybe you keep some rope around?” 

Everything seems slightly out of focus in Estinien’s mind, except for a never ending ache. It feels like if he opens his mouth to speak, the words that tumble from his mouth will be wrong, inhuman with want. 

“I need an answer, Estinien.” 

“Over there.” 

The words grate against his throat as they come out, his tongue fighting with itself. He uses his chin to make a strained gesture that points towards a simple coil of rope kept piled on a table in a shadowed corner of the room. 

“Perfect,” Valerian says. He leans forward, giving Estinien a quick kiss on the nose, and laughs softly. Then his hands tighten around Estinien, digging into his back, and he stands up. Estinien and Valerian’s height difference has always been a nonfactor, with only a few ilms keeping Valerian shorter. 

With the way Valerian’s chosen to hold him, his feet can’t reach the ground. Estinien hesitates, unsure if it's worse on his dignity to let himself hang, or to wrap his legs around Valerian’s waist. 

“Can you pick up the rope for me, Estinien?” Valerian’s voice cuts through his dazed indecision. “My hands are full.” As if to demonstrate, Valerian’s hands pull him even closer, so that Estinien’s chest is flush against the rugged material of Valerian’s twinsilk robe. 

He could just let go. Estinien opens his mouth to tell him that, but--

Valerian bounces him up a small bit, and then takes a small nip at the base of his throat, lips still curled into the sweet smile he’s worn practically since he first saw Estinien. 

He reaches for the rope, desperately tensing his leg muscles to stop the convulsions. He has control, he can control this. 

The hemp cuts into his hands. 

Valerian rests his head on the scarf, using it as a pillow as he looks up at Estinien. 

“It’ll probably be difficult to tie your own wrists,” he says. “But I don’t want to put you down..” 

Estinien wonders if Valerian can hear his heartbeat through the muffling of the woolen links. It’s drumming in his own ears, almost roaring. 

“Your bed also seems... not very stable. If we tried binding you to that, I think it might break?” 

“I don’t care about the bed,” Estinien says, harshly. 

Valerian nods, head still resting on the scarf. 

“If it breaks, I’ll get you a new one.” 

Estinien detects a note of... anticipation in Valerian’s tone. Uh--

Valerian drops him. 

It’s barely a fulm’s drop to the bed, but the fall feels much longer, knocking a bit of the breath from his lungs. The bed creaks a little as Valerian sits down on it, eyes still crinkled with happiness. 

Valerian takes off his coat and shirt, indifferently letting them fall on the floor as his gaze stays on Estinien. Estinien’s seen Valerian shirtless before, as the elezen liked to check out every river in the entire Dravanian Forelands. Though he was modest enough to take Ysayle into consideration and had never taken his pants off, Estinien had to say that overall he’d gotten...quite a view. 

The view somehow seems even better now, as Valerian leans over him, purple hair falling forward. 

“Give me your hand, Estinien.” 

He’s always been a willing accomplice in his own doom. 

The first coil around his wrist feels like a pledge, or like a tightening noose. 

“You’re strong enough to break this,” Valerian says as he moves on to Estinien’s other hand. “So..” He smiles down at Estinien. “Don’t worry. Pull as much as you want. I’ll make sure you can’t exert enough strength.” 

Almost instinctively, Estinien tugs on the rope. As he pulls, his eyes widen as Valerian flicks a spark of lightning from his fingers that flies onto his arm, paralyzing it for a second before it fades. 

His hand flops back down onto the bed, but the electricity that thrums through Estinien’s veins shows no such sign of calming down. He wants to fight, wants to thrash and kick and break the rope, _make_ Valerian prove that the skills that killed Nidhogg are just as useful now as they were when Estinien knelt before him, hands around his own throat. 

He waits for Valerian to finish with the tie around his other wrist. Estinien had sworn to himself to never be that wild, uncontrolled beast that lurked in his heart, and being around Valerian made him even more determined to uphold that broken oath. 

“There,” Valerian says, satisfied. Then he laces his fingers together and cracks his wrists, the way he does before a sparring match. The sound grinds into Estinien’s head. “Now, we can get started.” 

Fuck. 

Valerian’s eyes survey Estinien, tracing over his face, before sticking on his chest. Estinien’s nipples have long since puffed up as Valerian had kept pulling Estinien up against his clothes, and Estinien looks away as they flush further under Valerian’s gaze. 

He hears Valerian hum to himself, the low sound the same as the way he’d used to sound on their trip when Estinien would catch him paused, struck by the wonder of something new and beautiful. It’s odd to hear it here, where there’s no such thing to see. 

Maybe he should make sure Valerian is--

A warm mouth closes around one of his nipples, forcing Estinien to experience the low hum on a very personal level. Then, he feels Valerian’s teeth close around it. 

It doesn’t...hurt. Not really. Not yet. 

Valerian pulls off, and looks up at Estinien, catching his eye. 

He licks his lips, _clearly_ just so Estinien can see him do it, and drops back down to tend to Estinien’s yet untouched nipple. 

Estinien refuses to arch off the bed just for this. He bites off the snarl coming from his own throat, forcing himself to keep it down. 

Valerian rakes his nails across Estinien’s chest, the red marks standing out on Estinien’s pale skin. 

“Eyes up here, Estinien,” he says, still mild in his tone. “If you dislike seeing yourself like this, I can make a blindfold.” 

The immediate jerk of Estinien’s eyes to meet with Valerians’ could be dismissed as coincidence. If you were denied both working sight and a working mind. 

Yet despite possessing both of those qualities, Valerian seems to like what he sees in Estinien’s eyes. He crawls even further forward, so he can slip his hands into the scarf still around Estinien’s neck while pressing his cheek to Estinien’s chest. 

“You’re so warm,” Valerian says, lips brushing against his skin as light as a fairy’s kiss. “My personal heater.” 

He’s been able to resist a lot, but he can’t stop the blush that sears over his face at that. Does Valerian really-- does he really have to--

“I bet you’ll be even warmer inside,” Valerian says, still in the same tone. “Once we get there.” 

_“Valerian,”_

He can feel the way the laughter shakes through Valerian’s body, heavily weighted on top of him. The warm sound itself is almost a second weight, making his limbs feel heavy and the breath rasp in his lungs. 

“You’re not...funny,” Estinien manages to say, finally. 

“It’s a failing of mine.” 

Unbothered by this so called failing, Valerian flicks his fingers over Estinien’s nipple again. There’s a lazy kind of patience to his movements, like he could spend hours just doing this. 

Estinien hisses a little in the back of his throat, a little frustrated. 

“Bored?” Valerian doesn’t even lift his head off of Estinien’s chest. “Hm.. maybe I’m doing this in the wrong order.” 

A bit of panic surges through Estinien. He hadn’t been...complaining...

“Should I have started further down?” Valerian’s hands continue to scrape and rub across Estinien’s chest as he speaks, his voice drifting slowly to Estinien’s ears. “Bitten at your thighs instead, maybe. Taken you into my mouth.” 

The images infect Estinien’s mind, causing him to toss his head back in a futile attempt to shake them back out. 

“I could still do that,” Valerian says. His thumb presses into an already abused nipple, sending a lightning jolt right through it. Estinien feels his back arch, but Valerian’s body weight keeps him down. “But it seems like the type of thing Aymeric would want to see.” 

The idea of Aymeric being able to see this sends a mix of arousal and fear washing through him, tangling uneasily in his guts. He shakes his head, not even sure what he’s denying. 

“Or maybe this show is just for me?” Valerian’s voice is sweet and low, a strange undercurrent running through it. “I’ll have to make sure I don’t miss a second of it, then.” 

What?

Valerian plants a kiss right over Estinien’s beating heart. 

“I’ll finish this later,” he says, eyes sliding up to meet Estinien’s. “Oh. Once I’m down, my aim is definitely not going to be sharp enough to only jolt your arm. So be good for me, okay? Or I’ll have to be a bit more indiscriminate.” 

Be...good. 

Valerian’s head dips down into the gap between Estinien’s thighs, and he can’t-- Valerian didn’t mean he also had to watch this, right? Right?

_If you dislike seeing yourself like this, then--_

Estinien keeps watching. 

Valerian looks back up at him, and smiles. 

“Maybe you’ll be more relaxed for your second go round,” he says, thoughtful. “That’s usually how long it takes me to warm up to violence.” 

With that, Estinien’s time runs out. 

Valerian’s mouth wraps around his cock, the low hum that had been a slight shiver against his skin now an inescapable sensation that sends his legs thrashing, one of them accidentally kicking Valerian’s back. 

If Valerian laughs from that position, Estinien isn’t sure he’ll survive. But instead-- Valerian raises an eyebrow at Estinien. Then he places his hand on the offending leg, and his lips whisper a single word around Estinien’s dick. 

Shock pulses through Estinien’s femoral artery and sends the offending leg jittering down, while Estinien focuses everything he has on not pulling up on the rope. He’s not..supposed to break it. He tries to refocus his eyes on Valerian, but-- instead, he sees something else. 

Jagged red lines shift underneath the skin of his upper chest and down all the way to his stomach, the red marks of Nidhogg showing his true reflection of a monster. No.. no! Not here! 

From his vantage point Valerian can obviously see the marks, but he doesn’t seem to care. Estinien can both feel and hear Valerian redouble his efforts, head bobbing deeper as his hands drag down the sharp bones of Estinien’s hips. The inside of his mouth is warm and wet, driving Estinien to claw his hands into the sheets.

Within him, everything is getting twisted up. His chest still feels raw and sensitive from Valerian’s nails, his leg is still limp from Valerian’s reprimand, his cock is still--

His hips buckle off the bed as Valerian’s hands join his mouth, playfully pressing his dangerous fingers up the remaining length. He wouldn’t-- Valerian wouldn’t risk magic somewhere so delicate-- 

He bites down on his lip, trying to regain control. No matter what, he needs to keep everything _good_. He wants...he wants Valerian to see...

Valerian pulls off, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Estinien,” he says, and his voice is rough from giving head. “Stop biting your lip. Only _I’m_ allowed to hurt you.” 

Everything stalls out. 

There’s an odd roaring in Estinien’s ears, an agonizing mix of his own heartbeat and the dragonsong chorus that resounds everywhere in the Mists. He reaches out towards Valerian, forgetting the rope that ties his hands. The blood in his mouth-- _only I am allowed_ \-- the marks on his body, the warmth of _his_ breath-- 

The scarf he placed around his neck. 

The orgasm takes him by surprise, adding humiliation to the volatile cocktail of emotions rocketing around his insides. He tries to look at Valerian, desperately seeking an anchor, but--

It’s far too late. 

He feels the awful snap and grind of scale on bone as something that should never have happened begins to take advantage of his lax grip, warping and changing him as the tang of blood in his mouth coats his tongue. He yanks on his bonds, the pleasure of the climax still running through him, making the pain part of the act. 

The rope snaps like a brittle twig. 

Valerian won’t like that. 

The agonizing twist of disappointing him drives the last loss, and he feels the transformation snap into place. Black scaled wings unfold from his back, keeping him suspended in horror as they themselves cause the bed to crumple and break under their pressure. Valerian, who’d still been on the bed, easily jumps back, straightening up to standing as Estinien hovers in front of him in the same perverted form that Nidhogg had used on the Steps. Red cracks and fissures cover his skin, as the scaled wings match his clawed hands and feet. Without...without his armour, only Estinien’s hair has kept it’s white tones following the change. 

“Estinien!” 

Valerian’s voice echoes in his ears. It pierces through the noise and the haze, startling Estinien with the way it sounds no different than when he was..... 

“Estinien,” Valerian says again. “Your safeword. Do you need to use it.” 

What...?

“I can make this stop,” Valerian says. He still hasn’t even reached for his weapon. “I promise, I can make it stop. I can pin you down, I can make you turn back. It’s alright. Estinien. _Do you need to use your safeword_.” 

Estinien tries to speak. 

“[Valerian....]” It’s the wrong language. It’s all wrong, he’s speaking Nidhogg’s words. 

Valerian cracks a smile. 

“That’s my name. <>Please, Estinien. I want to...” All the terrible imaginings ricocheting around in Estinien’s mind ground to a halt as he sees the edge of Valerian’s mouth curl up, a chilling sign that he’s about to say something so mind bendingly awful that it will take Estinien months (never) to get it out of his head. 

“Ah, not to sound crass...”

This is so bad. 

“But I’ve never seen a dragon I’ve wanted to ride so badly.” 

Estinien chokes. 

His mind, spiraling into the ugly, murky depths of the hatred that has leaked through the cracks of his self to tarnish Valerian’s reality.. Tilts. Just a little. 

“Your voice sounds so nice in Draconic...” 

The distant shock in Estinien’s head connects the current tone of Valerian’s to the same one he uses to talk to Thancred when he’s contemplating if he’s willing to cause a public incident.

“[I don’t....]” Estinien shakes his head in frustration. “[The safeword. Don’t you have one?]” Like this, all his words are sharp and guttural. It feels odd in his mouth. 

“But I don’t want to?” Valerian tips his head to the side, eyes looking up and down Estinien’s form. “You still look kissable to me.” 

Estinien thinks he can hear something crack deep within him. He doesn’t look down in case the cracks are forming on his skin, bleeding out the desperate unattainable joy buried under grief. 

_Ravana._

He says that, Valerian stops. 

It’s better if he does that. Valerian will stop, he’ll be-- like this, they can both agree that he shouldn’t go to see Aymeric-- 

Valerian takes a hold of one of his hands, bending down to kiss it. His lips are warm and soft against the new hardness of Estinien’s red stained skin, but the feel still sweeps through Estinien like a pull linked straight to his core. The savior of Ishgard rubs his dusk-grey cheek on the back of Estinien’s hand, eyelashes tickling the edges of his skin. When he looks up at Estinien, his smile is soft and sweet, and for a reason beyond his comprehension, a memory flickers through his mind. 

When he and Valerian had braved the Aery, he had been useless for most of the fight, forced to devote all his energy to controlling the Eye. Valerian had stood in front of him, raining fire from the heavens as Nidhogg sent fire to them, and together they had set everything ablaze so that it truly had seemed like the hell of fire had erupted from its place in the cosmos to come to Eorzea. 

He’d never felt so warm. 

“[You have... strange taste,]” Estinien finally manages, the syllables of draconic still rough on his tongue. The... wings on his back speed up, reacting to his emotions. 

Valerian laughs. The sound spills through the entire room, his voice still low and distorted from having Estinien in his mouth, down his throat. 

“I’ve never thought about it before,” Valerian admits. “Well, until I was fighting Nidhogg-as-you. I didn’t know if you’d revert all the way back to your mortal body in the end, after all.” 

“[You’ve always been a fool],” Estinien says, and then realizes that the draconic word that had slipped out his mouth didn’t mean fool at all, and instead meant something sweet and bright and strange, like a flower that loves the moon. 

Valerian presses another kiss into his palm. 

“We can be foolish together,” he says. “That’s the fun part.” His lips curve into another slight smile. 

“Estinien,” he says, almost reproachful. “It looks like the bed is broken.” 

There’s no reason for Estinien to find that embarrassing. 

“[It’s the wings’ fault],” he says, voice sullen. 

“Well I’ll forgive them then, because they do such a good job of framing your chest.” 

Uh. 

Despite the intensity of the transformation, that single statement is enough to remind Estinien that Valerian had spent a ... not insignificant amount of time making sure his nipples were... very sensitive. Almost against his will, his eyes drop down to his own body, seeing the numerous red lines that now cover his skin and mark his flesh. 

To him, it’s like he’s still wearing that blood soaked armour. 

Before he can finish that thought, Valerian pulls on his arm, propelling him into another hug as though he wasn’t pulling against the strength of draconic wings. He keeps pulling even more though, wrapping an arm over Estinien’s shoulder and another tangling in his hair, pulling Estinien closer and closer until all of his scales and scars and cracks press into him and are hidden against him, till Estinien’s mouth presses into Valerian’s own and all the horror leaking out of his faulty soul gets swallowed into the press of his tongue and the taste on his lips and--

He lets himself imagine that it’s Valerian instead of Nidhogg who has eaten and taken a part of his being and left him with these damaged remnants. That all his soul bleeds is warm light and the bitter rage he tastes is Valerian’s grief and the thousand year love he feels is all from this one, who stole his mind and gave him back a ragged shadow to stitch back on to his feet. 

He doesn’t register the end of the kiss until Valerian tugs at his hair, pulling him back so they can both breath. 

Valerian’s eyes are lidded, the slight glaze of want making Estinien take another blow. 

“I don’t think the restraints will work anymore,” Valerian says. 

Estinien’s stomach clenches. 

“So let’s try something else.” Valerian stares at Estinien contemplatively, head tilted to the side. One hand circles Estinien’s wrist, thumb rubbing gently against Estinien’s pulse as the silence lingers. 

“The wings make it kind of difficult to pin you down...” 

On second thought, maybe Valerian shouldn’t think aloud. 

“Okay, I got it.” Valerian nods. “This might still be uncomfortable for you, so tell me if you don’t like it.” 

Mild panic curls in Estinien’s spine. 

“I could pin you stomach down on the floor, so my back would press against the wings and your cock would press against the stone.. The main issue would be that I couldn’t watch your face, though?” 

It’s like being struck by lightning. If the lightning strike had also made him suddenly completely oversensitized and left him lightheaded from all the blood leaving his brain to surge downwards. He rocks his hips a little towards Valerian before catching a hold of himself, but he can’t stop the frantic beating of his wings. 

“I’d like a yes or no, Estinien.” 

He swallows. 

It’s loud in the silence of the room, so much that he’s sure Valerian can hear even the blood rushing through his veins, the sweat beading on his skin. 

He manages a single nod. 

Valerian grins, tucking his head into Estinien’s shoulder for a quiet connection. 

“I usually at least ask for a ‘please’, but I’ll make an exception for you. Just this once.” 

Estinien is sure he prays more when he’s talking to Valerian than he’s ever done in his entire life. 

Valerian hums a little, small and pleased. 

“Let me just get my pants off,” he says. 

Estinien doesn’t move. 

“Cute.” 

Maybe it would be better if Valerian didn’t sound so sincere. 

“You can help me out then,” Valerian continues, putting his hands on Estinien’s shoulders and dragging his nails across the scales on his back. “Don’t shred my pants though, I like them.” 

There’s a whole host of reasons why Estinien should push back against the suggestion but he-- _be good_ \-- doesn’t. Instead, his newly clawed hands sink to Valerian’s belt buckle with his best attempt at precision, feeling strangely like he’s unwrapping a present. He feels Valerian give a small bite on his shoulder and loses his grip for a second, letting the belt fall open as he moves to work on the pants. If he could just-- rip them, then..

Valerian kisses the bite mark he’d just made. 

He doesn’t rip the button. Barely. 

“Oh, wait,” Valerian says, and lifts a hand off of Estinien to dig around in his back pocket. When the hand goes back around Estinien’s shoulder, it’s holding a small bottle. 

Estinien tries desperately to keep the grip on his sanity intact. 

Belt-- off. Pants-- off. Underwear--off.

Is this enough? Is there something else? Anything else? His hands twitch around Valerian’s hips, hovering above the skin. 

“Perfect,” Valerian says, the word snagging in Estinien’s brain. “Let’s get you pinned.” 

The next moment is a blur as Valerian maneuvers around his wings, using his own weight to shove Estinien down to the ground. His entire body presses down on Estinien’s back, one hand holding Estinien’s wrists above his head while the other holds onto the curve on his hip, fingers using bruising force. 

Estinien bucks and feels Valerian push down even more, letting him abrade his nipples against the stone. The feedback slips back into him laced with ecstasy, sending him into another squirm from the sensation. 

Like this.. Like this, it’s going to hurt. 

He feels Valerian push the scarf up, so he can press a bite on the vulnerable skin underneath. Then he resettles the scarf back over the bite, keeping it a soft secret under the wool. 

Everything slowly stills in Estinien’s mind. 

Valerian is going to rip him apart, keep a little bit for himself, and then put him back together so that no one can see the mark his teeth left on the edges of his soul. 

“I’ll take care of you,” Valerian murmurs, breath puffing over Estinien’s ear. His hand slips from Estinien’s hip to his ass, then slipping inside. 

Estinien’s head thrashes from side to side, a faint flush rising over his cheeks as he hears the rapid beat of his wings. 

“Nn--”

“Need me to slow down?” 

That is the _exact opposite_ of what he wants. 

Estinien shakes his head very fast, cheeks burning. 

“Aw.” 

Valerian seems almost.. disappointed?

Estinien stops shaking his head. He can.. Take it. If Valerian wants to go slow... Estinen feels the next slicked finger enter and once again forgets, grinding his hips down onto the unforgiving stone. The friction against his cock hurts, sending spirals through his system. He gasps into the ground, unable to keep silent. 

There’s a short pause. 

“I like that sound,” Valerian says. His fingers scissor, forcing the same chain reaction to happen again as Estinien thrashes underneath him. 

Valerian likes-- 

Estinien makes another groan, unable to bite his lip to keep himself quiet, as he usually does. _Only I am allowed to--_

Valerian’s other hand reaches forward, all the way until Estinien feels the now familiar flick against his chest. Arching before the spark even hits, his lips part as more and more noises keep slipping past his barriers. 

“[Valerian!!]” Even his name is distorted in this language. “[Valerian... I...]” 

His hand stops. 

“Yes, Estinien?” His voice is a low caress against Estinien’s skin, the patient cadence of his voice a promise and a threat. 

He doesn’t know what he wants to say. Just that something is bubbling in his lungs, longing for the taste of air. 

“[Thank you.]” It’s the wrong time to say it, but-- 

He doesn’t clarify what it’s about. 

“Ah....” He hopes it’s simply his imagination that carries the hint of Valerian’s startelement in the still air. Then his entire back tenses as Valerian sinks down, embracing Estinien once again. 

“I’m happy,” Valerian finally says, his body almost completely covering Estinien’s-- except for the wings. “I’m so grateful I found you, Estinien.” 

He can feel Valerian positioning himself, adjusting so that he can begin to press inside him ilm by ilm. It’s almost too much. 

Estinien gives in, beginning to pant as he continuously thrashes, searching for any friction he can find. It all mixes in his head, the pain from the stone and the sensitivity of his over-attended nipples, the way that Valerian bites at his ear... 

_Be good._

“[Please],” Estinien whispers. 

He feels Valerian’s careful strokes stutter. 

“Please, what?” Valerian asks. 

Asking for... Estinien struggles for the words. Everything is hazy with pleasure, making his tongue loose. 

He feels Valerian tug on the scarf, pulling his face up to look at him. 

“Please, what?” Valerian repeats, softly. Estinien stares up into his purple eyes, feeling frozen by the shackled intensity that pours out of them. 

“[Harder],” he finally manages. But... at the worst time, the language changes on him again. ‘Overwhelm me,’ that word meant. 

Valerian’s smile is a sunbeam on his skin. 

Some things are worth burning for. 

The flick against his nipple sends him arching before his body can even process there had been no spark, and he blushes a dark crimson. Everything intensifies, Valerian’s strokes speeding up as his every downward motion forces Estinien into a desperate grind against the floor for the spark of ignition that’s just outside his grasp--

One of Valerian’s hands slips underneath the scarf, wrapping around his throat in a delicate hold. 

“Scream for me, Estinien,” Valerian orders. 

Everything tips over the edge.  
\----

“You did so well...”

When Estinien comes back to himself, Valerian is sitting on the ground, patiently trying to run a comb through Estinien’s tangled hair. Even as he gets through another tangle Estinien can feel the much larger transformation he’d just been through receding, the lines slowly fading alongside the scales. The wings, however, are much more stubborn, and he can still feel them shifting against his back. 

“Such a good job,” Valerian continues, which is--

Estinien can’t pull himself out of the fuzz that lingers in his head. 

He moves his head instinctively, making a low hum in the base of his throat. 

“I didn’t know you had long hair until after the Steps,” Valerian says. His hands are firm with the repetition of the comb. “It’s cute.”

It’s not cute. 

Estinien grumbles, wings twitching in discomfort. 

Valerian laughs. 

“It took me a while to get the comb out, you know. You wouldn’t let me get up...” 

One of Estinien’s wings lashes around Valerian’s back, trying to drag him closer. They're not under his control, he can’t really make them stop. 

“Like that.” Valerian ducks down to plant a kiss on Estinien’s forehead. “Of course, I didn’t try very hard.” 

Estinien curls a little, pulling his legs up so that everything is closer to Valerian. He shouldn’t get up. What a stupid idea. He can feel everything unwinding inside of him, feel even the twisting of his tongue and the muscles of his back shifting back to hidden, back to human. 

He can feel the caress of Valerian’s hand on his spine, a slow petting motion. The warmth seems to trickle through him, gentle on the open, raw parts of his soul that he’s just torn open. 

The ache between his legs reminds him of other things that are going to linger for a while. 

...Wait. 

“Valerian...” The harsh croak of his voice takes him by surprise. Scream for me Just how loud had he been?

“Hm?” 

“Aymeric’s never seen me like that.” 

It’s not important. 

“He has, though?” 

If Estinien weren’t feeling so... right now, he’d experience heart failure. 

“He was watching our fight, on the Steps.” 

Oh. 

“Did I look like...this?” 

“Mmhm.” 

The comb is still running through his hair, and the hand is still calm on his back. 

“He’s a blind fool,” Estinien says, numbly. “But he’s not..” Not blind enough. 

“He loves you.” Valerian’s voice is quiet, heavy with certainty. “If you stayed the Azure Dragoon, if you transformed wholeheartedly into a dragon, if you left for the endless Northern Wastes and never returned or if you cut off all your hair and joined a celibate order.” 

Estinien closes his eyes. 

“You’re a terrible judge of character,” he says. 

“It’s a failing of mine.” 

The scarf is warm around his neck, and he ignores the way his wings wrap around Valerian, an ugly shield to a one man sanctuary. 

“I’ll go see him,” Estinien finally says. 

He feels Valerian tug on the scarf, and hears that crooked tilt of his voice. 

“Good choice,” Valerian says. “I like to deliver my presents on time.”


End file.
